Chaos with a Capital C
by BGCPresidente
Summary: American army doctor, Ann Kerns, takes on a position in a rundown clinic in Small Heath. Recovering from the war and her experiences, she must face the challenges of 1919 England. Getting off to a rough starts she'll have to manage her questionable employer and the people of Small Heath who view her as the ultimate outsider. SLOWBURN
1. Chapter 1

**ANN**

It was the train's whistle that startled me awake. My hat crumpled against my shoulder. The carriage was no longer moving and there were the heavy footfalls of the train conductor calling out the station's name.

" SMALL HEATH STATION! SMALL HEATH STATION!"

This was my stop. I jumped up, wobbling slightly on my limbs after the nap I'd taken, and turned to reach above my head for my luggage. My hands met with only air, I wasn't going to be able to reach. I hesitantly checked the window to my compartment and before sighing and climbing onto the cushions. Not wanting to miss my stop, I tugged the luggage hard, nearly knocking myself over in the process. I cursed under my breath and promptly pulled my hat back over my hair. I nearly knocked into the conductor as I swung out into the aisle way.

"Forgive me, Ma'am. Will you be needing any assistance with your luggage?"

"No, thank you. I think I've managed just fine on my own." I called out trudging down the way towards the doors.

The conductors footfalls never ceased behind me however, "Wait, Miss. You'll be forgetting your bag!"

This startled me from my journey. Using my free left hand to pat my sides for the aforementioned bag, at this point I actually did turn to face him. Stout and bald, but not unpleasant looking. He held my leather satchel up almost delicately for me to take, and I in turn offered up a smile as it was returned to me. Muttering out a very out of breath, "Thank you." I slung it across my head and continued into the cloudy day outside.

The station wasn't very much to look at, I knew this was a factory town, but I hadn't expected everything to actually look like God had purposefully smudged and dirtied it for effect. The air was brisk, for being after noon. Though, it didn't look like much sun got through the factory's dust. Following the station past the benches and down the stairs brought me to an equally dirty street. All I had to go on now was the quick scrawled address in my satchel, 437 Coventry Rd. Looking up the long road in front of me, it would be a long walk, a good many blocks at the very least.

It was more than an hour later, having gotten sufficiently lost twice, and given wrong directions at least three times, I finally spied the sign for Coventry Rd. Following the numbers down in the correct direction was the easiest part of my trip so far. Towards the end of the street on the left side, looking unimposing on the outside was a tall brick building. The door was scratched and rotting, but somehow still fighting the hinge pins to keep itself hanging upright. The sign above the door was long, following past the tops of the door and window to read, SMALL HEATH MEDICAL CLINIC, in dirty gold letters.

Finally settling my luggage on the step and smoothing my rather rumpled clothes, I gave 3 hard knocks and waited. No answer. I gave 3 more hard knocks and called out, "Dr. Malcolm, are you there?" No answer.

Finally I tried the worn curved handle, it was unlocked. It really shouldn't be unlocked, I grabbed up my bag once more and stepped over the threshold. I found Dr. Malcolm alright, the weathered old man laid in the office to the left of the front door snoring loudly. He had a tall and unfortunately empty bottle of rum tipped over his desk and his chair was knocked against the side wall. And underneath the large oak desk was Dr. Malcolm, with his suit coat as a pillow curled up sleeping off what would be a very large, very unpleasant hangover.

 _You've got to be fucking kidding me,_ I thought angrily. I was invited here for this job, and here my would be employer laid in his own mess. I lifted my trunk and dropped in loudly to the floor. Dr. Malcolm jumped in his stupor and stared at me rather bleary eyed with his glasses crooked on his face from under the desk. He must still be drunk, with no good sense to even look remorseful at me.

I heard mumbling first and then a rather gruff, "Bloody hell." Righting his glasses and crawling out from under his desk, not without hitting his head, twice, he turned to me, "I forgot you were to be coming, Miss...?"

Too drunk to have remembered my name I suppose, " It's Dr. Kerns, Dr. Ann Kerns. You did contact me about an open position here at your clinic?"

"Mmmm."

"Grunting isn't really a response, Dr. Malcolm." I felt like my mother, echoing her scolding of my father when he wasn't paying attention at dinner. Sighing, I wandered off into the rest of the building, while he righted himself.

Outside his office was a small sitting area, up against a large fireplace. There were two faded green couches opposite each other, the window to the street was pulled shut and not one glowing ember was to be seen in the barren cave. Further down the small hallway towards the back, sat two more rooms, presumably used for client visits since they had hard chairs and unorganized counters of medical equipment. To the right of these rooms was a rather spacious surgery theater. It had a sink and counter along the left wall and large glass cabinets which seemed rather empty and unprepared. I sighed irritably at the situation I'd gotten myself into.

It was a good 10 minutes later that Dr. Malcolm emerged from his room, looking no worse for wear but still pretty rough if I did say so myself. He gestured toward one of the couches before seating himself.

"I apologize Miss Kerns, for my appearance. It must have slipped my mind that you were coming today." That earned an eye roll from me, one it seemed he didn't notice. "Your commanding officer sent along a glowing reference to your medical skills, Miss Kerns. "

"Thank you for your apology, but it is Dr. Kerns. "

"Yes, yes, doctor...he mentioned your no nonsense attitude as well. I'll be happy to have you here working in the clinic. My previous partner, well...he just couldn't quite handle the pressure here." His smile was tight and hesitant at that. "What your commanding officer failed to mention though is that you're not English."

Sigh...at least it wasn't that I was a woman, "Yes, I'm American actually. From Pennsylvania to be exact, that's also where I attended the Women's Medical College of Philadelphia."

"Yes, yes, that's very nice but that doesn't explain your interest for a clinic in Small Heath. If you don't mind me prying that is."

 _Of course he wants to pry, likely wants dirt on me for catching him so indisposed._ "Well, I was a military doctor in the United States Army, I was on the front lines in Belgium for some time. I wasn't allowed to officially enlist, so I was paid as a civilian contractor. " At this I sigh and remove my hat sitting it in my lap, "Many hospitals aren't permitting women doctors now that the men are home, and I'll take work where I can get it."

Dr. Malcolm is a tall man, already graying in places, his mustache especially. Not unfriendly in his look, but perhaps not quite as youthful as he once was. He nods absentmindedly at my answers. He fiddles in his pockets until he comes across a worn cigarette which he lights and puffs at leisurely. I've never been fond of cigarettes, better yet I never had time for them. I grew up on a farm, all we had time for was work and there was always plenty of it to go around. I lean back on the couch, dust rises from my actions. This clinic would have its fair share of work, and I'd never learned to be lazy.

* * *

 **THOMAS**

Several streets over it wasn't quite so slow of an afternoon. Men trudging through the streets, dirty from the factories and children chasing each other, weaving in and out of horses legs. Young Finn Shelby was one of them, racing around pretending to be his brothers gathering shouts of greetings and bits of intrigue as he went. Up to the door of his home, bounding through the door nearly knocking into Aunt Polly who sat at a table working numbers. She smiled, her affection for the boy outweighing her irritation.

Through the parlor doors and into the Shelby epicenter of chaos; men, women, and children came and went making bets with their milk money, wages, and tips. Anyone else unfamiliar to this scene would have been startled and perhaps overwhelmed at the energy that bounced from person to person. This was the chaos that a one Thomas Shelby thrived on.

The powder trick had worked, for now and people having heard the rumors spread by the wash women, were eager to eat it up. Content with his efforts Tommy strut from the building and into the street, a cigarette between his lips, heading towards the Garrison.


	2. Chapter 2

**ANN**

I huffed, Dr. Malcolm has gone through two cigarettes now and still said nothing. He's still glassy eyed and weary, with a rub to his face he stands.

Stumbling back towards his office he calls out, "Be a dear and fetch me a bottle of liquor from the Garrison, would you?"

He has to be insane if he thinks he needs another drink. I can feel my face flushing in anger, _who does he think I am? Not his assistant that's for damn sure!_

"There's a garrison in Birmingham?" That didn't seem to make sense, not much military presence in this part of the country.

"It's a pub, hurry back now dear!" He sounded positively pleased with himself.

Oh, we'll see about that. Yeah, I'll march right down to that pub. With that final thought I stood and mashed my hat down upon my head. I left my suitcase by the door but I grabbed my satchel and I stomped out the door. As much as I wanted to slam the door, I knew it might not survive my wrath at the moment. I looked left and I looked right and I stepped off the stoop. Back home, the pubs were closest to the factories, the workers sought their drinks before heading home to their families. I assumed the same in this place as well, and I turned left following the smoke trail that curled into the sky and across the city.

* * *

 **THOMAS**

Thomas Shelby had made it to the Garrison easing himself through the door, conversations stalled to glance around at the door before piping back up.

"Whiskey."

Harry, the barman, grabbed the dark bottle of Irish and poured him a drink, "On the house, Mr. Shelby."

Thomas downed about half the glass poured and slid a coin across the bar nodding politely. He lit a second cigarette, gave several puffs and turned his back to the bar. Surveying the room, he heard the door open, which he ignored until he felt the stalled conversations once more. He took another swig of whisky to finish his glass, to which Harry refilled.

Standing at the door was a woman, short and young. Her hair was thick and curled, kinky even. Much longer than was the fashion for woman. She wore a brown skirt and blouse, but her hat was a faded green. She surveyed the room on her own and they locked eyes. Unflinching she was, to his hard gaze, before she squinted and made her way towards the bar.

* * *

 **ANN**

The Garrison was ahead, the sign large and polished despite its location so close to the smoke. I had received many looks on my journey here, and I struggled to hold on to my anger less I lose my nerve as well. My father would be positively shamed if I couldn't so much as walk into a bar and do what was needed of me. I sighed and took a deep breath and pushed through the doors of the pub. Not too crowded but full enough. I steeled myself to their stares as many stopped talking. I glanced around and my skin began to tingle, that landed my eyes on the one man at the bar. Tall, dark hair cut short. His eyes were blue and cold. We stared at each other, I wouldn't let his intensity scare me off just yet. I made my way to the bar, it barely coming to breasts.

"Would it be you who is in charge here?"

The barman eyed me and the man at the bar snorted in his whiskey, "Of a sort. What can I do for you?"

"Dr. Malcolm sent me actually."

"Ahh. He'll be wanting his usual presume?"

I snorted and sighed," Actually I was meaning to speak to you about that. I was wondering if you might refuse the sale of alcohol to Dr. Malcolm?"

The pub went silent at that. I glanced around me and back at the barman. Two large men sat at a circular table behind the bar, "Oh and I suppose you'd have us all denied our drinks. We read the papers lass, we'll not have you argue this prohibition nonsense here."

"That's not my intention here, but Dr. Malcolm does not need more liquor. His patients need him sober to treat them properly, and that should be reason enough! Besides, it's not as though America is the only country overrun with political zealots."

The tall man at the bar downed his glass and lit another cigarette, blowing smoke my way, "Well, said. You heard the lady." His voice was definitely not what I'd imagined, it wasn't angry or gruff. It was smooth and held a hint of laughter to the edges of it.

Gesturing towards the barman," Harry here will see that it's done, won't you? You'll go back to your drinks." He indicated the men at the table.

I couldn't help but be a little surprised. I had expected at least a bit more in the way of resistance. My irritation deflated a bit. I turned to the bar with my last bit of nerve, "Now, well that's been done. Could I get two shots of whiskey?"

"Scotch or Irish, lass?"

"Scotch, please."

Snorts and chuckles came from the table behind while Harry poured my shots. I rolled my eyes.

"I hope those aren't for them."

I smiled, "No, these are not for them." and with that I took the first shot and downed it.

* * *

Thomas smiled despite himself. Stupid girl. Brave, but stupid. Also, certainly not wrong either. Dr. Malcolm had lost many of his patients and his partner to his drinking, it might be nice for some new management. The Peaky Blinders might even get something out of it, "might" not being the best choice of words. The Peaky Blinders WOULD use the medical help.

"And you are Dr. Malcolm's keeper now?" puffing at his cigarette.

"No. He's my employer. And I like my job. I intend to keep it." At that she downed her second shot of whiskey with a grimace.

"Awful confident nurse you are then."

"Nurse? My ass, " she laughed with an exhale of air, "I'm a Doctor."

I laughed, puffing on my cigarette. "Well...Doctor."

* * *

Faster than lightening, faster than I could even blink the door to the pub screamed open with a bang against the adjoining wall. What came in through the doors could have been a bomb for all anyone knew. Or a whirling dervish. Yelling and shouting, right into the table of the two men from before. Both jumping back their liquor bottle and glasses shattering.

I'd barely blinked when the man at the bar jumped into the chaos, throwing himself at the dervish of a man. "Danny! Danny! You're home, you're home! We're not in France anymore!"

His voice was smooth even as he lay on the floor with this man. He'd begun to calm in his arms. By this point there was an intimacy to the moment of them holding him down and calming him down. I looked up and scanned the room. Somehow in the chaos, the room had emptied out.

"Tommy, this is unacceptable. You need to do something about this!" Harry called out.

 _Tommy? Suited him._ He and another man were lifting the wild eyed man from the floor. He was panting and heaving, blinking around the room. Those men began to cart him out.

The one called Tommy leading the way, "Send the bill to the Peaky Blinders!" And with that they were out the door.

"You'd best be heading out too, this isn't the place for a lady."

I shook the shock off, "Right. Well thank you again for earlier." I sat the coins for my shots on the counter top. I nodded and left.

Out in the street, it was as though nothing had happened in the pub. Might as well not have, if I hadn't witnessed it myself. This town was a puzzle, these people were bound by something much stronger than I'd seen. And if I was being honest with myself, I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.


	3. Chapter 3

**ANN**

I'd be lying if I said the walk home wasn't all distraction for me. The clinic was a mess but there was only so much to be done alone, the drinking would be dealt with now I suppose. Hopefully that barman would keep his word about serving Dr. Malcolm.

Coming out a side street, I smelt the steel as it crossed in front of my face. "Shit!" I ducked my head out of the way and the steel fell.

There was a cough and but no apology, "Bloody God, girl!"

"Who did you think you'd be pointing that at?" I asked straightening up and holding up my hands. Anyway, she still held the gun and I wasn't taking any chances.

"Well, I _was_ expecting someone else. " She scoffed, "I'm not going to shoot anyone. Just teach my nephew a lesson about leaving these about his brother."

I got a good look at her. Taller than me, not by much. Dark, curly hair like mine stuffed into a dark hat. She was about my mother's age, but the lines on her forehead didn't help her look much. She must have been beautiful at one time, that much was certain.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you to your waiting. Try not to point that at anymore strangers?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes before gesturing me on with the gun. I was more than obliged to comply, I'd had my fill of guns being pointed at me in the war. Enough for two or three lifetimes at the very least.

Dr. Malcolm was nowhere to be found when I arrived back at the clinic and yet the door was still unlocked. _Figures_. My case still sat by the door, I lugged it into the hallway. On the right side sat a door I hadn't really noticed upon first inspection. It led to a set of stairs, narrow and creaking but sturdy enough. Following them up brought me into a small kitchen likely just above the front room down stairs. It had an old wood stove and a pump sink. It was funny, but it reminded me of home. There was a bedroom adjacent, the bed was just a mattress and frame. It would do just fine for me. I left my case on the bed and went back to the kitchen. It was time to clean. I left my faded green hat by the sink and grabbed the bucket to pump in some water.

It was several hours later when Dr. Malcolm came through the door that he found me on my hands and knees scrubbing the front room. I had the cushions washed and drying, I had them tied across the ceiling. He started upon seeing me, "I figured you'd just run off."

"I need this job, and you need my skills."I snorted before I went back to scrubbing.

"Listen, did you ever get my drink?"

Sigh..."You know Dr. Malcolm, I didn't get your drink. And I don't intend to ever get you a drink?" I sat back on my knees and tossed the brush in the soapy bucket.

"Damnit!" He pulled his hat off his head and rung in his hands. "I needed that drink, Miss Kerns!"

"Or what, Mr. Malcolm? I want to like you, but I won't tolerate the drinking. And from what it seems that is what has this clinic in such a state."

He continued to ring his hands, likely to prevent me from seeing the shaking of his hands.

I shook my head, and smoothed the pieces of hair that had fallen in my eyes. "I want to help people. My mama said it's one of the things I was good at, even as a child. So, just let me help you first!"

* * *

 **THOMAS**

 _Family meeting my arse. Poll just wants to show off, but she's not the only one thinking three steps ahead in this family._

"I've heard from some out of Belfast that there was a copper in a pub there passing these out."

Poll read the writing out loud as the flyers made their way around the table. Strong men to Birmingham and all that.

"Looking for communists, because of all the strikes." I don't believe a word of the shit coming from my own mouth. That copper is looking for what we I have.

Arthur is pissed, but it'll pass. We didn't need a family meeting for this shit, it wouldn't have killed him to just ask the coppers we have here. Aunt Poll's eyes find mine and I know she knows. She must read minds now or something.

"Anything else to add, Tommy?" Sickly sweet, _oh she knows something alright._

I'll burn her though for her looks, "Nothing that's fit for women's ears."

She scoffs, taking a puff off her cigarette and Ada rolls her eyes. "This whole operation was woman's work while you boys were away at war. What's changed?"

 _I have. Everything's changed_ , but I don't say any of that. "We came back."

* * *

The streets may have been crowded with people heading home in the early evening, but Inspector Campbell had no issue getting through. He walked like a man on a mission. Children jumped out of the way and woman crossed the street out of his way. It wasn't clear if he knew where he was even going, but his steps never faltered.

This town was a cancer secretly festering inside the body. He fancied himself like a detective, seeking out the infection of this city and to cut it out at the source. Those guns were here and he was determined to get them back, whether he had to stomp on some toes to get there or not. This town didn't know it yet, but they were going to remember his name. And the reasons weren't necessarily going to be good.

 **This chapter is a bit short. But it's out a little early, so I hope that makes up for it. Thank you for the reviews, I really appreciate them and the feedback. Do not fear, it's similar now but I hope to make it different in it's own special way. I'll fight the motivation monster :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**ANN**

I did my best cleaning up the clinic front. No one wanted to go somewhere that didn't feel a better option than roughing it at home. But one day of cleaning just meant the layer of grime I'd washed away would return with a vengeance. We hadn't been awfully busy, but Dr. Malcolm was completely useless. I'd taken away his only source of comfort and the withdrawals had hit him hard. It was more than once I caught him breaking down and taking sips from the hydrogen peroxide. Of course nothing good came from that and likely made his discomfort much worse.

Days later I was coming to discover just what kind of city I was dealing with. This city was a place of extremes. Extreme age differences and extreme injuries. Men would come by having lost a finger or children came by with cases of the measles and the flu. As far as I could tell no real outbreaks had hit this area, many of the men here were soldiers and thus subject to the military's vaccination requirements. Many people in this town avoided hospitals as well, much of the time I was surprised to get any visits.

I had spent several days adjusting and it was still taking time to learn where things were, but I could now successfully get my groceries without getting lost. But I wasn't the only shiny new anomaly here in Birmingham. There was a new detective, Inspector Campbell. Most were under the impression that his being here just meant trouble, but cops were supposed to be a good thing. The police at home were always friendly. Everyone had an idea of why he was here, The Irish Rebels, the communists, or for the Peaky Blinders. That's the one I always asked after. But the answer was always the same, "If you have to ask, it's probably for the best that you don't know."

* * *

 **THOMAS**

Tommy walked tall, and with a purpose. He got word from Aunt Polly that he was needed home urgently. Whatever it was couldn't be good, he considered tracking down that doctor. As far as he was concerned, she owed him for taking Dr. Malcolm's liquor away, but she wouldn't and likely couldn't be trusted. So he hit the streets, rushing toward the Garrison.

Crowd didn't bother him at all, it was good they were busy. What wasn't good was the angel of a woman filling orders at the bar with Harry. She noticed him and hesitated before walking over. _Damn her slowness._

"Bottle of Rum." he ordered.

She was startled by the command from him and Tommy vaguely registered Harry speaking to her. "Whole bottle?" _Ahhh, Irish._

I nodded, _no time for this._ "Light or Dark?"

"Doesn't matter."

She hesitantly placed it on the sill. "Harry said it's on the house."

Her words felt timid, she was definitely an outsider here. More so even than that doctor. "Are you a whore?" I felt the words spill out.

Her wide eyes didn't help her cause. "If you aren't, you don't belong in a place like this."

And I was off, hoping I didn't waste too much time on her. Bottle in hand I started off for the house.

* * *

I heard Arthur's loud mouth before I even got through the door. "Fuck, Ada!"

Well no one was dead...yet. That was but a small comfort to the knot that had built in my chest. I marched through the door, pulling my hat off as I went. Arthur looked like hell and I told him as much. "What the hell did you get into. Here." He took the bottle from me, pulling the cork free to take a swig. Ada and Polly were fussing over him, but likely just getting in each other's ways. I grabbed the bottle back soaking a rag while he talked.

"New copper," he explained. "accusing us of taking some guns. Said Churchill sent him here. Wants us to work together or some shit."

I glanced at Poll, for her pointed glance at the mention of the guns.

"We don't work with no coppers." John bit out.

"So I tolds him, we'd call a meeting and take a vote about it."

Once we got him cleaned up, he didn't look too bad underneath all that blood. Coppers didn't put in that much effort if they really sought to prove a point. New copper likely left it to one of the men already here in Birmingham, too scared to actually give it to a Shelby. Coward hadn't even served, letting others do his dirty work.

The next day brought new troubles of their own to the Peaky Blinders. Arthur was flaming mad, about Monahan Boy winning his race. First he needed consoled. I always had a plan, two or three steps ahead already. The guns, those had been dealt with. Sorry as I was about Arthur taking the brunt of that copper's force, he'd shown his hand. Now I knew what'd he'd be willing to do to get these guns back and I wasn't planning on just leaving them.

Now, I'd gotten word about Danny. Poor fucking Danny. He was a pawn now, literally fallen into our laps. But he'd gone and killed an Italian. That meant extra work for me. I found him in the Garrison, behaving as though normal.

"Danny, come on." I bent down to whisper at him. He nodded, following me out and into the streets. The walk was short, quiet. I couldn't decide if he knew what was about to happen or not. Probably best this way. I stopped along the bank of the Cut. He turned to me, removing his hat.

"Tommy?"

"You understand the situation don't you Danny?"

" I didn't mean to do it Tommy. Really, I didn't mean it." He rung his hat between his hands, his knuckles turning white.I sighed. Of course he didn't mean it.

"You killed a man, Danny. One of the Italian's men no less."

His tears and sniffles were likely heard by the Italian's standing just up the bank. Danny started to chuckle, "Probably for the best. I left my brains in the mud there. All the way in France. Hell, I'm an embarrassment to the boys." I nodded for his sake and he continued, "You'll look out for them, won't you? Try to let them be normal, get them apprenticeships and such."

"Of course, Danny. You know I'll see to it." He turned away from me, towards the Cut and eyed the barge head our way. As the barge came upon us, I lifted my revolver from my waist coat. Pointing it straight for his head and at the right moment...BANG! I forced myself not to flinch as the brains spattered on my face. _All for the cause, all for the cause._ The Italians nodded at Danny's limp body laying across the barge before turning and leaving us behind.

* * *

The walk back into town was odd. People stared of course but no one was quite willing to say anything. That is until I hit the mid part of Coventry St. She came at me like she'd just seen a ghost. "Son of a Bitch! Come inside and let me have a look at you. For the love of God, what did you do?" All her words rushed out and I felt her small hand dragging me out of the street.

"It's fine, really. None of its mine."

"It's a someone's?!" My words seemed to have no effect, and I was dragged to a surgery theatre. She began pumping water and wetting a rag. Her hands were at my face when I finally got control of the situation again.

"It's not a someone. It's just sheep's brains."

I tried to pull her hands away but she slapped them away with a dirty look and wiped my forehead clean. It was a practiced care that she used, "You don't look like much of a butcher, if that's your excuse, Sir."

I chuckled. _Sir?_ "It's Tommy."

"Well, **Thomas**...I don't think I want to know what you **think** you were doing. But whatever it is...you'd best get it sorted, you look like shit."

"You're right, you don't want to know what I was doing." I was finally clean and as I sat on the surgery table I was finally eye to eye with her. She stared me down, just as unwilling to yield first. She wanted desperately to pry, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want her to. Even just a little. She was a fighter, that much was certain, but I wasn't quite willing to throw down all my cards at her feet. So, I stood gave her a smirk and straightened my hat and left through the door. I'd have use for her yet.

* * *

 **ANN**

I followed him to the door, watching him stride out into the streets lighting a cigarette as he went. Insanity, everyone in this town was insane! That was the official of it. I brushed some of my hair from my face as a breeze rushed through the street. I needed to check on Dr. Malcolm, and I grabbed my coat hanging by the door. Locking up behind me I trudged out into the streets opposite of _Tommy? No, Thomas._

I'd made of list of things we needed for the clinic: morphine, hydrogen peroxide, sulfa-drugs. I'd be making due with basic herb based medicine for the foreseeable future, but I needed access to the safe for the necessities.

I didn't bother knocking at Dr. Malcolm's house, I just breezed through the door. I heard him retching from the sitting room. I found him in his room, once likely well worn looked like a tornado had blown through. I felt the sympathy rise in my chest, _I did this to him_. I shoved my sympathy back down into the pit of my stomach, _he did this to himself_. Clutching my own hands together in front of me I set about cleaning up a bit. Pumped and heated a bit of water for him to clean himself up before I stripped the sheets off his bed. I ignored the smell, I'd seen worse in the war and I wasn't about to lose my lunch over this. It was another hour before I had the room aired out and fresh sheets on the bed. Dr. Malcolm had a bit of color to him now and I was ready to finally talk about our supplies problem.

"Dr. Malcolm, I'm going to get right to the point. I'll need access to the safe in order to put in an order for more supplies."

The rag he used dripped, "We have supplies."

I sighed, "Not the essential things. We need morphine, bandages...I could barely treat a mouse if it came through the door."

He eyed me warily, careful not to move to quickly and upset his already delicate stomach. I continued into his kitchen and set about making tea. I wasn't fond of the stuff, but it seemed the thing that was done. I heard him shuffle into the kitchen behind me and ease himself into a chair at the table.

"We don't have much in the way of means."

"I anticipated as much. Which is why I made a list." I turned away from the stove and pulled the crumpled paper from my pocket. I sat it on the table and slid it towards him.

He cleared his throat before reading some of the items aloud. "Raw Garlic, Chamomile, Witch Hazel, Wild Rose, Queen Anne's Lace, China Root? We run a clinic, not an apothecary."

"I know but I've used all of these before. My grandfather taught me, this really does work and it'll help until we can get some stronger stuff. I just need to know where to get it." The kettle behind me whistled. I let it scream. Dr. Malcolm clenched his eyes shut and groaned.

"Fine. Try the Chinese in the water factory or the Gyspy people near the carnival." I smiled and turned to get the kettle, finally silencing her cries. Then I lifted the lid and dumped all the hot water back into the drain.

I didn't need to see Dr. Malcolm to see his rage. He gave a huff and crumpled my list, "What the hell was that for?!"

I snatched my crumpled list back and stuffed it in my pocket, straightened my skirt and placed my hands on my hips. "I don't know how to make tea. And besides, I'm a doctor, not your housekeeper."


	5. Chapter 5

**ANN**

 _ **While the Cat's away the mice will play...**_ and we were royally fucked because of it. All whistles and shouting. Doors slamming and women screaming. I hadn't been awakened quite like this since I left the front lines. The sound startled me right out of my bed and onto the hard floor. I barely had time to grab my dressing robe and my shoes before there was a distinct banging on the clinic door. I rushed to the stairs but I was unsteady, it felt like the entire building shook beneath me. I had just reached the ground floor when the door was kicked open forcefully. I didn't even have time to yell out before police officers were streaming it.

They tore into Dr. Malcolm's office and pulled his desk drawers out. They took knives to the cushions on the couches and pulled the sheets from my bed. Some of the men had the decency to at least look sorry.

"What the hell is going on?"

The heavy booted steps were my only reply. Stern, older man that he was with a mustache and a top hat. He just looked angry, but it wasn't his business being torn into. "We are looking for criminals."

So matter of fact that I nearly couldn't reply. But I steeled myself, wrapped my robe tighter and stomped up to him pointing my finger in his face. "Criminals? This is a medical clinic, for the sick and injured. God forbid any of you require medical care, how can we expect to care for you or your men with it in such a shape!"

"Gun up here, sir!" an officer yelled and down he came from my apartment with my military pistol in his out stretched hand.

"Ahhh...what have we here?" The stern man said with a smirk. He received the gun and promptly started rolling it around, checking the barrel and counting the rounds. Finally he gave a sigh and shook his head before turning to pocket the gun.

"You can't take that! I'm an American citizen and I have rights! And besides I'm a military official, that's my firearm." I never did receive a reply, Instead he tossed the gun onto the couch and I hear the "ALL CLEAR!" from within. They all filed back out the doorway without another word.

* * *

The smoke in his lungs, the dark of the early morning, all of it served only to spur him on. With every house searched he got more and more angry. Nothing was turning up, perhaps a few radicals but NO guns. He'd toss every house and business in Birmingham if he had to. With those Bastard brothers all gone it was just the right opportunity to strike hard and strike fast.

* * *

 **ANN**

It was barely 10 when I was able to get the clinic straightened out. The cushions were a loss, but my mattress was still intact. I stomped around, my fury evident. Dr. Malcolm stopped by soon after, looking no worse off, perhaps even a bit better. He nudged the door with his shoe and then patted me on the shoulder as he came in. He eyed the mess of his office before trudging in, he went to the safe and pulled money out, locking it behind himself. He nodded at me before pressing about half the money into my hand. He left without a word, likely off to track down a drink. I knew he'd found one somehow, he'd not shaken or wobbled through our interaction.

It was touching that Dr. Malcolm had thought to come by and leave me with some funds to get things sorted. It was also irritating that he didn't say a word, but I knew he was expecting me to get it sorted.

Scanning the street, I watch others collecting their belongings from the street. And despite the hour there was still no sun making it through the grim. I didn't want to leave the clinic in such a shape to go off in search of fabric and wood, but with everything that had happened so far I couldn't much see it crossing anyone's mind.

I was back not an hour later, I'd placed an order for more fabric. I could reupholster them easily, now the door on the other hand...I wasn't quite sure what to do. I got the wood from the factory easily enough, but building a new door was new to me. It was a much heavier material than what had been on the door previously. I leaned the planks against the outside of the clinic window and set to work getting the hinges off the split door.

That's where I was when I heard the familiar chug of a car, coming up the street. I tossed the split pieces down and stuffed the hinges into a pocket of my skirt. That familiar chug came to a stop and I heard his familiar voice pipe up, giving orders, "Get that horse squared away."

I turned and brushed my hands down my skirt, "Looks like you missed out on all the fun of this morn."

It was then that I spied the boys knuckles and the mustached man's bruised jaw, "Or you might have been just having some _fun_ of your own."

Thomas rested his hand on the shoulder of a young boy and nudged him forward, two more men following after them into the front room of the clinic. I remained in the doorway, quite content to let them survey the damage for themselves. "New inspector has been busy this morning?"

I scoffed at that not deigning to even answer. The youngest boy was curious, moving close to everything for a good look. I took my time observing them all. The two men with Thomas had shaved heads to match, but the older had a mustache too. They all had flat billed hats just alike in color and size, even the youngest. _Family_ , I thought, _or a gang...or both._

"What do you need from me Thomas?" The men with him eyed me warily, they didn't like me using his name.

"It's Mister Shelby to you!" The mustached man bit out. I scowled and rolled my eyes. He didn't scare me, in fact none of them did. I crossed my arms across my chest and righted myself from the door way, easing into the room more.

"Thomas?"

He sighed, "Right, show her your hands boys." That wasn't the answer they were looking for. It took some pointed glaring before either of them would pull their hands from their pockets. I shook my head and nodded.

"Well, wait here I guess or follow me to the theater, choice is yours. " And off I marched, into the hallway. I'd managed with some of the herbs I needed already. I grabbed a clove of garlic and a fireplace kettle, pumping the kettle with water. I collected some cloth and bandages for their hands. Back in the front room the youngest had made himself comfortable on a ruined cushion. The oldest man had dragged Dr. Malcolm's desk chair from his office and was about to light a cigarette.

"Sorry, no smoking in the clinic please." I must have startled him a bit, he flinched and Tommy smiled. The other man smiled too, taking a tight grip of the pick between his teeth as he did.

"No smokin'...Tommy you can't be serious!" he stuffed the cigarette back into his pocket, clearly frustrated.

I smiled, and set the kettle on the hook and swung in into the fireplace. While it heated I started peeling the first layer of garlic. The youngest, obviously curious came over to investigate. He leaned forward to smell and immediately flinched back wrinkled face and all. I smiled wider.

"Don't expect the smell of flowers, these are garlic cloves. Good for cleaning cuts, you know. My name is Ann. What's yours?"

He looked at his brothers before answering, "I'm Finn...Shelby. I'm the youngest."

"I'm the youngest too you know." He smiled at me. I checked the kettle and tossed in the cloves with several rags. I gave it a good spin to mix and set it back into the fire.

"Why garlic?" The boy with the toothpick asked.

"Garlic is a good antiseptic and it's a lot cheaper."

"Don't hospitals have something like that?"

"Most but to get more here would require a shipment all the way from London, and that's just the top of the list of things we could use here. I can make do with some plant supplements, at least for the small things."

"I doubt even that'd be enough with this new copper's methods." Tommy spoke up. I pulled a rag out and squeeze it out a bit before heading to the oldest man. I held my free hand out for his. He looked at me like I was a wild animal ready to attack.

"Give her your hand Arthur." Tommy called, it made me flinch at the suddenness of it.

Arthur, then flopped his bruised knuckles into my hand and looked away angrily. I dabbed at them, wiping blood away slowly. I did the same to the cut near his eye, but they looked a bit older. The brother with the toothpick smirked from the sidelines until it was his turn and I grabbed a new rag from the kettle. Thomas was last, looking no worse for wear than his brothers and certainly more willing to let me do my job. His hand was given quite willingly. Finn had no scrapes, but I had him help me with the bandages on his brother's hands and that seemed to please him.

No one said much else after that. The other three left through the door to wait in their car. Thomas remained behind, "What will you do for the door?"

I gave a sigh and eyed the opening, "I'm not sure. I've never made one before."

"There's a man at the Garrison you can try, Bill Werth. Fixed several doors for me before." and with that he pulled his hat brim down, smiled and left. Of course he didn't tell her the doors he'd fixed had be shot to shit by an angry gambler months back. And she didn't ask why more than one door needed fixing in his home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author Note: Sorry for the lateness, new job and all. I'll be off to band camp (cue American Pie jokes), so I'm not sure how soon the next chapter will be up. I'll try. Thank you for being interested in the whatever it is I'm doing here.**

 **ANN**

Mr. Werth came around the clinic of his own accord not 30 minutes later. Tall man, with what my mother would call "Angel Hair", so frosted blonde it looked like a halo. He wasn't much older than myself, though he didn't say much for himself. It wasn't difficult to assume that Tommy had sent him round to see about the door. Doing even such an innocent favor made me wary. Not that I didn't believe that a person could be a good Christian about things, especially in such a strong Catholic community, but it didn't quite seem like his style. Everything had a price here, and I felt like I was waiting for a very expensive bill.

And it seemed that my very expensive bill came in the form of two women several hours later. Mr. Werth was still in the street working on the door. They came like a dark cloud, all bundled up with their hats pulled down low. Passing through the clinic's opening, I noticed them from my seat in Dr. Malcolm's office. I'd been trying to straighten it up.

"Hello?" It seems they didn't notice me in the office either.

I stood, letting the chair scrape the floor. "Hi, Can I help you with something?"

The older woman looked familiar with her dark curly hair, it reminded me of my own hair. But the young woman I didn't know. They didn't share much resemblance, but that didn't mean much.

"We don't have an appointment, but we were hoping you could see us." The older woman piped up.

I grabbed a clipboard and led the way down the hallway toward one of the exam rooms. Gesturing for them to sit, I shut the door behind us. "Now, which of you will be needing the exam?"

Neither seemed to eager to identify themselves, "Well, how about a name for the chart?"

That seemed to peak their anxiety more. Finally the older spoke, "Shelby. Ada, Shelby. My niece."

"Okay, now is that Shelby with a 'BY' or with a 'BEY'?" I asked writing the first part and leaving the rest blank.

"You don't know who we are?" The older woman asked. I looked up from the clipboard, I wasn't dumb. I obviously figured the name Shelby for being associated with Thomas, but not much beyond that.

"Well you must be related to Thomas, Arthur, Finn, and John. But I'll still need to know how to spell it for the chart."

The women sitting before me shared a look, "They're my brothers. But that's not what I meant."

I sighed and sat the clipboard in my lap, "Honestly, I don't care. Everyone tip-toes around like I should know what you're all talking about, but I don't. And I get the feeling that I'm not really going to get an answer so, is it 'BY' or 'BEY'?"

The older woman smiled, "It's 'BY'."

"Now what are you here for?" I asked looking between the two of them expectantly.

The tears were quick to well in Ada's eyes. I reached for something to hand her, but her hand stopped me, "Umm...I'm pregnant."

 **THOMAS**

We'd stopped at the Garrison on the way home, I sent Billy Werth to see the good doctor about her door. The bar is staffed by the young blonde Irish woman, watching me out of the corner of her eye. _As though I wouldn't notice._ A thought has struck me from watching her, _she's a liar and I have use of a liar._

I leave for home, Poll and Ada aren't home, the boys are in the back room. Making my way to my office I slam the door shut. Needing to be three steps ahead of the problems at hand are going to become a necessity, but first a cigarette.

 **ADA**

 _ **Thump, thump...thump, thump.**_ I'm bringing life into the world and to say it out loud, there's a ringing in my ears and only the beat of my heart or maybe it's the baby's heart. _**Thump, thump, thump...thump, thump, thump...thump, thump, thump.**_ Everything is moving so fast, the beat is rushing in my head. They're looking at me, staring at me. But silence shadows my thoughts. Then everything is rushing and going full stop all at once and I feel like I'm screaming in a crowd.

"You have some options, Ada."

"No, she has ONE option. She's a Shelby and she's a young unwed woman. Now that may not mean much to you as an American, but here..."

"Aunt Poll!" I found my voice and it was surprisingly quiet to reach over the din I'd been hearing in my head. She didn't look sorry but at least she'd stopped talking. She was worried too. She had every right to be worried. I was worried.

No one said much for a while, I think they were waiting for me. For a decision from me, but I don't have a decision. I don't have a choice.

"YOU do have some options, Ada. Adoption for one. Though family seems like an incredibly important factor to you and your Aunt as well." She stood up and walked to the cabinet in the corner. The dried yellow flowers she came back with were strange.

"This can be put in steeped in tea, it should help with any anxiety you face in the next few days. You could keep the baby, you'd likely have to leave Birmingham and lie for the rest of your life, but you could do it."

"Is that supposed to be comforting me or convincing me?" I scoffed.

"The only sane choice is to get rid of the problem, Ada." Polly meant well, but hers oddly enough was the scariest choice I had.

The doctor sat down and grimaced, "That is a choice you could make. But it too has its risks, you could die."

"She'll die of the shame if she keeps the baby!" Silence followed Aunt Poll. Silence usually followed her statements.

 **ANN**

Polly was a hard woman. You could tell just by the way she held herself, this wasn't just about her niece. I sympathized, I did. I couldn't judge anyone for their choices at this point. I practically enabled my boss's alcoholism.

I crossed my legs at the ankles and shifted on the stool, "There isn't a father in the picture is there?"

"He doesn't know, left town cause of the new copper. I was gonna tell him. I just..." Ada trailed off and her aunt frowned. No love lost it seemed.

I proceeded to ask her about how many cycles she's missed and tried to make an estimate on due date. Almost 20 weeks now.

"I'm not going to lie to you. You seem like a smart girl, Ada. But your window of opportunity is closing fast. Soon it will be too late to abort."

"And can you do that here?" Aunt Polly asked hesitantly.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Polly glared.

"I can't, we don't have the equipment here. This clinic is very small, you'd have to go to a much bigger city. But I need you to promise me one thing," Ada looked me in the eye and I really hoped they both were listening, "This is the biggest decision of your life and I want you to think very hard about it, because you can't take it back."

Ada nodded and I looked pointedly at Polly. I like to think we could be on the same side here. I knew where her opinion lay but I was a doctor and my opinion didn't matter.

"Thank you." The words were whispered through watery eyes but they were said nonetheless.

They stood to leave and I escorted them back out into the front room. The pounding of a hammer quickly making my head ache. I squinted into the dim light of the outside as they pulled their coats and hats back on. Then I remembered something and rushed into Dr. Malcolm's office for paper. Scribbling a name and number I handed it to Aunt Polly.

"If that's the choice she makes...this is a doctor in Sheffield who can do the procedure."

Polly softened at that and took it gently from my hand. She nodded at me and they left.

 **POLLY**

Back at the house, I had sent Ada away to her room. Anything to make herself scarce while I inform Tommy. It was one thing to speak to a doctor, but another entirely different thing to speak to Tommy. It was concerning enough to think that the rest of the boys would eventually find out, but Tommy...

I hung my hat and pecked Finn on the cheek before straightening my dress. Then I sauntered into the 'office' and to Tommy's door. I didn't bother to knock before storming in and slamming the door. He barely looked up at me as he leaned back dragging deep on his cigarette.

"We've a situation, Tommy."

"The Lees deserved what they got Poll, I have it under control."

"That's not what I meant, Tommy, and you well know it. It's about Ada."

 **ADA**

I heard the slam of the door and the curse from my room. Tommy knew, Poll was never going to keep it from him. But I wished I could have just had a minute to contemplate my options without the two of them breathing down my neck. I stood up and snuck a look into the hallway. No one so far. I didn't bother with my hat and I stomped right out the front door and into the streets. Fuck them. Fuck this family sometimes. Fuck Freddie fucking Thorne.


	7. Chapter 7

**THOMAS**

Night had fallen and already Finn was racing through the streets with several others spreading the word of our little bonfire. I strut to Coventry Road to personally retrieve one of the King's pictures. The light of the clinic was out, but there was a faint flush from the windows on the second level. There was a plain wooden door replacing the broken one courtesy of "Mr. Werth". Knocking hard three times I proceeded to take several more drags before a light peeped out the front window.

The door was yanked open and there stood the good doctor, still in her skirt and blouse from earlier but her curled hair was down and in this light it looked quite red. Her hand clutched a small pistol, that I hadn't noticed at first. She sighed at seeing me.

"Nice door." I smiled before taking another long drag.

She rolled her eyes and stood aside to let me in, "That stays outside." She indicated my cigarette.

I snorted, but snuffed it out anyway and entered the front room. I took in the room, ruined cushions still in place, but Dr. Malcolm's office was looking much better. She gazed at me expectantly and I smiled back.

"Planning to use that?" I nodded to the pistol.

Clutching it tighter in her hand she sighed and tucked it in against her side as she folded her arms. I nudged my coat front open and showed her the handgun holstered next to my rib cage. She followed the movement with her eyes, raising her eye brows at me.

"I need the clinic's picture of the King. He's coming to a little party I'm having." Her brow furrowed, but she nodded and bent down on her knee. She tucked her pistol into her boot and stood up. Turning away from me she wandered into the office to grab the frame from a spot on the shelf.

"I'm not sure I want to know why you need this." She smiled and handed it to me our fingers grazing a bit. She didn't release the frame just yet either.

With a smirk I leaned towards her more, "Want to come to a bonfire?"

 **ANN**

It was fascinating to watch the people stand about a fire burning pictures of their monarch just to prove a point. I watched Tommy from across the flames scowl and talk to a journalist of some sort. I heard him speaking about the shame they wished to spare the king from seeing in this new police officer's actions. Afterwards he inclined his head at me and started off down the street towards the clinic again. I followed, feeling a bit silly for doing so in the first place.

Once far enough away he lit another cigarette, "You don't strike me as a liar."

"I tell my tales the same as anyone does I suppose." I tucked my hands into my coat pockets for warmth.

I stopped walking and watched him. He stopped too, turning he took a long drag. "What's do you want to know, Mr. Shelby?"

"I don't know what you mean." He leveled his gaze at me.

Rolling my eyes I took the last few steps to meet him in the darkened street, "Don't what me...you know what."

Flicking the last of his ash at our feet he pulled another from his pocket offering the box to me. I shook my head and he tucked it back away. It didn't escape me that he turned away as he lit the new stick and took a drag.

"If it was you, what would you do?"

I turned to continue walking and Tommy followed next to me. He didn't press or say anything else, for which I was grateful. My mother always told me my opinions would get me killed, but he'd asked. Still, I didn't feel like I had much of an answer for him. At the very least it wouldn't be a very satisfying one.

Reaching the clinic I grabbed the new key from my pocket, fidgeting with it briefly, "It's not my place to persuade your sister, Thomas. But if it were me, I'd go home and I'd tell everyone that my husband was killed in France. I'd say he was a patient, that it had been love at first sight. Calling me a liar would mean insulting a dead man and his grieving widow. If it were me, I'd keep it. But it's not me."

He didn't say anything, didn't need to. But he nodded and left.

 **THOMAS**

I replayed the conversations in my head over and over. First Polly's, then the good doctor's, and now Grace's. I'd called Grace on her lies but somehow the story about her getting pregnant felt true. That might just be the liquor though. It was definitely the liquor that allowed her to try negotiating terms for the Cheltenham race and that damn singing. She definitely wasn't entirely naive and ignorant. Give a little and hopefully he'd get a lot from this agreement.

 **CAMPBELL**

 _Pretentious bastard_ , the words running through his mind as Thomas Shelby strode into the dining room. All pressed and cold, he walked tall and I was heavily resisting the urge to order in some men to rough him up. It wasn't a matter of whether I could or not either.

It wasn't until after he admitted to having the guns that I really felt the white hot rage deep build in my stomach. Grace had her work cut out for her, but the longer I spent in this man's company the more I didn't like the idea of Grace in his company either. Surely a smart girl like her saw behind his confident charm and into his cold, calculated heart.

 **ANN**

I got word that next evening that Dr. Malcolm was at the Garrison, extremely drunk. I sighed, irritated when the man had come to the clinic. I didn't recognize him but he had a very familiar look to him, shaved head and a flat cap. He called himself Scudboat, and he offered to wait but I declined. I needed to change out of my night clothes. I grabbed a dark pair of riding pants and a white blouse, tucking it into the pants. _To hell with propriety_ , I was so angry that they'd given him alcohol. I thought I'd been perfectly clear the first time. I left my hair down, pulling it at least back from my face and grabbing some boots. I almost forgot my coat and key as I rushed off down the street.

I heard the Garrison before I saw it, barely a street over and there was bellowing singing coming from the building. I shoved through the door and into the crowded room. Scanning the bar I didn't see Dr. Malcolm. I continued to look through the crowd of people singing and swaying about each other.

"Harry!" I spotted the bartender.

He looked up and smiled but didn't speak. I made my way towards him pushing through the masses. He smiled and held up a bottle of whiskey.

"No, where is Dr. Malcolm?! Someone came by the clinic and said he was here and drunk."

He gave me a quizzical look and scanned the Garrison quickly, "Dr. Malcolm hasn't been here at all tonight. I've kept my word, no drink for him."

It was then that the singing stopped and people clapped and cheered. People knocking into me to get at the bar and I was all but shoved into the middle of the floor. Someone must have taken that as my volunteering for the next song. I shook my head, hands raised and tried to make my escape, but I was promptly pulled back.

 **THOMAS**

The night was calm albeit loud and rowdy. But all was right with the world, I'd reached out to Freddie for Ada. By now they were ideally on their way to another city far from the trouble brewing here. Grace had just come by to refill our pitcher, inquiring too about whiskey which I promptly declined.

"Expecting trouble, Tommy?" Arthur piped up. He needs to watch his mouth around here, I glanced at Grace but she didn't seem to notice his slip.

"Who in the hell convinced you to allow this racket?! Sounds like strangling cats." John gasped out, laughing.

I tried to sneak a glance at Grace, but they caught it. Rolling their eyes and making snide comments about me settling down with a woman. I vaguely caught something about fast women and slow horses before the next song began. It was one I didn't recognize and it seemed no one did either, because it was one lone voice that carried out the tune. John and Arthur paused to listen too.

 _"If you miss the train I'm on, you will know that I am gone. You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles."_

 _"A hundred miles...a hundred miles...a hundred miles, a hundred miles. You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles."_

I peered around the opened door to the side room and there stood the good doctor balancing nervously on a chair and singing. I couldn't keep the smile away when I saw her eyes find me. What I missed were John and Arthur's looks to each other. I was walking a fine line with these two women.

 _"Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two, Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four, Lord I'm five hundred miles away from home."_

 _"Away from home...Away from home...Away from home, Away from home. Lord I'm five hundred miles away from home."_

She shyly climbed down amid the masses drunken applause and cheers. Then they proceeded into "Josephine and her flying machine". The door to the pub banged open and the singing slowly stopped. _Showtime,_ I thought with a smirk.

 **ANN**

I still hadn't found Dr. Malcolm but people were quickly evacuating the pub as though it were on fire, some I'd assume without even paying their tabs. A little gunfire never hurt I'm guessing. I wouldn't lie to saying I flinched at his shot. I glanced through the crowd searching when someone grabbed my arm. Looking up I saw Tommy Shelby looking down at me.

"Give me a minute before you throw me out, one of your men came to the clinic...Something about a drunken Dr. Malcolm..." I saw him grimace and the truth became clear, "There is no drunken Dr. Malcolm is there?"

He didn't look sorry but he had the good sense to let go of my arm. John and Arthur moved into the now emptying main room to arrange a table and chairs for a this very slick looking man and his goons.

"I need you to stay, in case something goes south in my negotiations here."

I sighed, visibly irritated. I felt the anger in my chest, but I stamped it down when I realized the room was now empty. The man here was greasy and important looking in a way that certainly didn't fit with the Birmingham community. The anger I felt slowly melted into a kind of anxiety, I hadn't felt in the months since the end of the war.

I leaned in to him and grabbed him by the side of his coat where I'd been shown his pistol. I pulled him in closer to me and hissed out, "This once, Thomas. But I won't be your pawn or some private nurse."

Grace eyed the way this woman grabbed at Tommy, acting so a familiar with him. She was a threat to her job here. It didn't escape her notice that she was distantly dismissed by Tommy after she'd brought their drinks too. She considered eavesdropping, but felt sure that someone would notice her.

Ann stood away from the three brothers who sat evenly in their chairs to face the one and only, Billy Kimber. She had removed her coat, tossing it on the bar and stood, hip popped and arms crossed nearest to the bar.

"I've never approved of women in pubs, but when they look like that..." Billy Kimber trailed off and smirked at Grace as she left, her tail practically between her legs.

Nothing seemed to bother Tommy about the comments he made. Just lit his cigarette and leaned back in his chair. Ann recognized Scudboat in the corner, the one who'd been at the clinic to get her. Kimber didn't even notice her standing near the bar, probably for the best too.

A lot was said or more shouted; a bit about fixing horse races, some things about war, and a lot of sucking up to the rat of a man that was Billy Kimber. It was a strange sight to see Tommy Shelby so willfully obedient to Mr. Kimber when he was hardly obedient to anyone. The accountant with him didn't seem nervous, maybe eager was a better word. Then they left as quickly as they had come.

"You picked a fight with the Lees on purpose?" Arthur questioned and Tommy shrugged.

"A gang war, really? You're all insane and I'm going home." Ann ground out, grabbing her coat and strutting out, the brothers in the pub watching her go.

It was Tommy who finally turned away with a smirk, "Get a decent haircut. We're going to the races."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I apologize for the time it's taken to get this to you. Think of it as a belated Labor Day gift. The first two weeks of the semester went great and now I'm back in the swing of things. Hopefully this means I'll do better about updating. Thank you again for continuing to read, follow, and favorite.**

 **GRACE**

Watching him speak to them like he was, all conspiratorially made the anger burn straight through me. I couldn't even fathom concentrating long enough to know what they were talking about. Once they've finished they leave as though nothing had happened. Tommy doesn't even bother to look worried about who he's sharing drinks with, well he should be. _Damn the IRA._

It isn't long before I'm able to leave the Garrison and make my way through the streets. I make my way towards some of the other pubs in the village. Each one associated with a different kind of person. I see the heavy Irish man that'd been speaking with Tommy swagger out of a pub, the Black Swan. Here's my chance.

As I follow him down side streets I can't help but feel the adrenaline tense my chest, clenching it tighter and tighter. My hand digs into the clutch hanging over my shoulder, my fingers most definitely white knuckled as I grip the small gun. The fear doesn't reach me, I'm untouched by it. He's drunk and I have the element of surprise on my side. Surprise for what I'm not sure yet.

When he catches me following him and deigns to stop me with force and foul words I can't help the pure rush of rage that grips me. I shoot straight through the bottom of my bag and into his stomach. Watching him slide down the wall of the building I'd cornered him against I feel all the blood drain from my body. _What have I done? Campbell will never forgive me!_

I feel the crippling fear racing through my body as I sit stilled in my flat. Drawing my curtains and sitting against the wall, hiding from the world. From **my** actions. My hand shivers and shakes as I try desperately to light my cigarette. With each drag, my pounding heart slows. _I'm conquering this fear, I am master of myself_. These words I whisper until I'm sure I believe it.

 **CAMPBELL**

Make another comment about France! Damn them all. No sense of respect for a gentleman of esteem. _Reign it in, Reign it the hell in!_ I repeat those words for hours until I can meet up with her. Women like her have no place in all this mess that men like Shelby have round up. She needs care and delicacy.

So handsome she looks, among the art. I find her face and it soothes my nerves. We speak in hushed tones and she seems unaffected, but I know better. Lying can wear a woman down. She's digging in too deep, volunteering for too much.

Moss doesn't know any better. Just some dumb brute, he'll serve. But this operation needs the finesse. These back alley cops just don't see two steps ahead. _Spies_ , what do they think this is some mystery novel. Far from it I'll say. Things are looking like I'm the only person in Birmingham with the intelligence to challenge these "Blinders".

"I don't need you to be my father." These words will surely sustain me. Holding her warm hands among mine. I won't be her father, I'll be whatever she needs me to be to keep her safe. She deserves to come out of this mission as innocent as she entered.

 **ADA**

If I hadn't been raised by Aunt Pol, I'd have been shocked to wander out into the world and discover how stubborn and prideful a man can be. First with Tommy and now with Freddie. I'm the one carrying his child and standing at his side, yet the only person he's thinking about is my brother! Sometimes I find myself wondering why he did marry me if his first thoughts are for himself or to spite my brothers.

"Two hundred pounds." Pol said very matter of fact. Freddie of course looks between the two of us like we're crazy, and maybe we are.

"Where'd that come from?"

"Family Fund." which means she took it.

Then two tickets to America. A new start, a fresh start, "They've already had their revolution, you wouldn't have to bother."

His scowl tells me that he's not going to sleep on it. He's made his choice...our choice. At least I can count on Aunt Polly to spit the truth, she is twice the man Freddie or any man will ever be.

Now I'm married and officially going to a mother, I'm taking it upon myself to see to the health of this baby...my baby. That means I'm heading to the clinic.

* * *

 _What in the right hell is he doing?!_ I get back to the safe house and Freddie is gone. No note or anything. I can't even imagine what he's planning on doing now. All I can do is panic. I've no choice, I find myself rushing through the familiar streets of my childhood and into the garrison. The blonde woman grabbing me roughly by the arms, "They'll kill each other!"

She's speaking, I feel the hum in my arms as she tries to steady me, but I can't understand her words. So I repeat what I know, "I have to find them. Freddie will kill him if Tommy doesn't get to him first."

 **THOMAS**

It'd be a lie if I said I wasn't getting tired of this shit. Dragging Arthur out of the bottle is getting harder and harder each time. And unfortunately this time around it's getting very expensive. Then there was Freddie Thorn, the irony of his name not lost on me these days. Rallying the factory workers and knocking up my sister. He's out to ruin us, right at the most opportune time in our lives. All these thoughts cross my mind in such quick succession I almost believe it a dream. Though most of my dreams still involve a pistol pointed at my head, it's the cold against my temple that reassures me in the oddest of ways that I am in fact awake.

"What is your aim here, Freddie?"

He threw down a stack of money, "Polly gave me that and it's not going to work on me, Tommy."

"Do you remember trying to swim across here when we were kids? Think we could still do it?"

"The guns, Tommy. That's why I'm here. It's not personal, just business."

His hands shook with the gun. He couldn't do it and that meant it was personal. We both knew that. So, I took my chance and I kicked his hand and the gun away. He sprawled at my feet. I felt the anger well up inside me. Looking down the barrel of his gun and wondering if he'd pull the trigger. I felt inside as though I could.

"You knocked Ada up. Whether out of some want of her name or if you thought it'd help you, I'll never know. But you can't drag her through hell and back just because you think you can be somebody with this damn cause. I won't let you!" The words spilling from my lips.

Freddie scoffed and lowered his gun, "You don't get it do you? I love her. I've loved her since we were children, and she loves me. But you wouldn't understand that would you?"

"Watch yourself, Freddie."

* * *

My anger hadn't yet subsided when I stomped into the front room. Polly sat at a chair in front of the fire. She didn't look up and she didn't acknowledge me, but she knew I was there and she knew why.

Tossing the wad of cash on the table before her I spoke, "Freddie didn't want your money. And now the coppers will come after Ada. So much for your way of doing things, all your bleeding heart has done is damn Ada as well."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I cannot apologize enough for not updating sooner. Between a tough semester, marching band, my sorority, and my job I haven't been left much time. I'm so grateful for all those who continued to follow and favorite. I'm very sorry also that this isn't a longer update. Hopefully you can expect better of my in the new year. Thank you again.**

 **THOMAS**

 _Click, Scrap...Click, Click, Scrap...Scrap, Click, Scrap..._ The shovels tore me from my senses, heaving in breath that seemed all but lost to me in my sleep. Wandering to the garrison, I was met by Grace. Going on about Ada, 'Women, talk bullshit.' _What a waste of breath_.

It was her parting question that made my tongue go still and my brain fire off at full steam, "What are you and Freddie fighting over?" If only I actually had an answer, even if it was just a lie.

 **ARTHUR**

I was in charge today. I would be running the men from the front lines and I relished it. The rush of the fight ran through me as we went after the Lees. With John and the boys at my back I was invincible.

I slid through the track's back rooms, heaving bags over each shoulder. I found the side door Tommy mentioned and sure enough he was waiting, "We got them all, every penny of it."

"Good, good. Anyone hurt?"

"Cuts and bruises only. Will we be seeing a cut of this?" I boasted, pride at a job well executed.

"Not today, Arthur. Get the boys a beer, and get them patched up. The good doctor should be able and willing, _if_ you ask nicely." Tommy slid the bags over his shoulder and smirked as he ran off.

 **GRACE**

I was firing mad. My rage as thick and dark as the dress I wore.

"We're having dinner at Kimber's. I've got some business to finish up here so you should go on ahead with him. "He mumbled out, avoiding my eyes and forcing himself to be casual.

"I'm no whore."

His scoff at my comment bit at me, "We're all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves."

My rage didn't cool even at his mention of my wanting to work for him. The reality of Campbell's warnings hit me all at once, and I didn't need to hear 'I told you so' to feel its distinct sting. No one could be blamed for this but I, and Tommy of course. Grabbing my clutch angrily I felt the cold steel in my hand. I didn't like this arrangement anymore.

* * *

The ticking from the clock on the wall grated my nerves, but I fought a tight lipped smile at the glass of amber being held out to me. He turned and I took a swift gulp, relishing the burn of it. He thought he was so charming, brushing rogue hairs back and trying to woo me.

As he went to put on music, I imagined Tommy, burning in hell for putting me here. I felt the anxiety pull tight in my chest and I eyed my purse spread on the pool table. I downed the rest of my drink, if anything but to stable my nerves.

Kimber wanted a slow dance, something for groping no doubt. We struggled over me, him shoving me against the table. My hands clawed the felt, my clutch just shoved out of reach of me. The door was shoved in, "STOP."

"What's the bloody meaning of this?!" Kimber shouted. I managed to reach my purse, my hand gripped tight over the gun. I glared at Tommy, his angry look daring me to do it.

"She's got the clap." Tommy sighed out. "I thought I was fine with it when you asked but my conscious has won out, I felt I needed to warn you."

Kimber miffed, straitening his vest and smoothing his ruffled feathers, but the idea didn't seem much bother to him. The tightness in my chest releasing so suddenly, I felt a bit like a popped balloon. I was tossed under the wheels so suddenly by them both. My hand held the gun even tighter, creating a lifeline to the only person who seemed to really give a shit. _Campbell._

I stomped out past Tommy; I couldn't bear to wait for whatever words were coming for me next.

 **ANN**

My day hadn't been particularly busy, I stitched up several gangsters. Word had gone around after I had cleared up the Shelby brothers the first time. This time I nearly had a fight in the sitting room. It was later in the afternoon when the first of them trickled in, flat hats and two familiar faces at the front.

"Gentlemen...?" Dr. Malcolm greeted. I barely noticed the unease in his voice as I came from the back room.

"John…Arthur." I nodded at them in greeting. Dr. Malcolm's look was incredulous; the Shelby's making him rather nervous.

All I received from him was a nod and he turned back to his office, "Tommy said you're good to patch us up."

"Did he now?" raising my brow and planting my hand on my hips.

Nearly on the heels of the Shelby brothers came another rag tag bunch, much more bloodied and mumbling in what seemed like Italian. I had been looking the Shelby's over when they stumbled in, the triage training in me kicked in instantly going toward several men with shredded ears.

Rushing forward towards them I never noticed them seize up, facing each other as adversaries in the clinic waiting room. The cocking of a pistol pulled me to reality. Here I stood in the crosshairs of the modern day O.K. Corral.

Arthur made to grab my arm and pull me out of the way, but I yanked my arm hard. Storming over to the mantle of the fireplace I pulled a sawed off down and cocked it myself. All eyes falling on me.

* * *

"Now you may pick up your weapons from the basket when you leave and not a moment sooner. You may only take what belongs to you, yourself. This clinic is neutral ground and I will NOT tolerate whatever nonsense you feel fit to bring in off the streets." I dragged a large wicker basket around the room. "Ah ah ahhh…hats too please. Don't think I don't know about them too."

The waiting room hadn't eased much in tension but at least I wasn't going to be picking up pieces of men off the walls. Somewhere in all this Dr. Malcolm had snuck out, so I moved the coat rack behind the door to his office in order to make room my peace keeping basket.

It took nearly 2 hours to get all the men patched up and squared away. There was an odd kind of satisfaction in watching them file out, stopping to dig through the basket for their guns and hats. I doubt these kind of men had ever felt so emotionally naked since their childhoods (if even that).

 **THOMAS**

If only the exhaustion I felt meant something to the rest of my body. Arthur and John were oddly pensive about everything, no one asked for an explanation of the day's events. I hoped I wouldn't get one either, my guilt over offering Grace to the beast had passed at my guilt for ruining the well laid plans at furthering this family. Kimber wouldn't trust me…us again. All for a woman.

The smoke at my bedside filtered into my senses and I felt a rush of quiet in my brain. The comforting fog would provide the only few hours of rest I'd get tonight before the finality of the shovels raged to be let loose. _Click, click…scrape. Click…click…click…click…_


	10. Chapter 10

**CAMPBELL**

Settled in the gallery, I waited. A bit impatiently if I was being honest, debriefing with Grace was to be the highlight of my day so far. Watching her wander up the steps into the room it wasn't hard for anyone to see why either. She looked lovely in the faded green dress. I waited, keeping composed so as not to look too eager for her report.

Her steps were confident, stopping just in front of a large ivory bust, "I've been offered a position with them. Small book keeping and observation making for now."

"I'm happy to hear of it, but it still gives me concern for you." I straighten my back, turning myself towards another sculpture.

"I told him my mind…how I expect to be treated. I believe I've set him straight." She gritted her teeth, whether out of frustration or fear I wasn't sure.

"I'm given to believe he quite enjoys your company…"The words like poison from my mouth, hoping bitterly they weren't reciprocated.

She turned on me quickly bending her head for more discretion, "I've only done as I see fit to ensure my trust by him."

Sighing, I smiled most comfortingly in her direction, "I know. You are a most vital component, I just worry for you."

 **ANN**

The morning was cool, and the sun even managed to beat the dust cloud that normally gathered over the town. It was a relatively quiet Saturday morning. I sat at the small kitchen table upstairs, blank pages in front of me. I ought to write home, then again I ought to do lots of things. Words didn't appear, no matter how I might will the words to mind. I picked up the pen and wrote the first and most important thing to be said… _I'm so very sorry._

 _I'm so very sorry. Time it seems slips away from me here. I know I said I'd_

 _write when I was settled. I miss you, all of you. My greatest disappointment_

 _is being that I was not able to be there for Matthew's funeral. My second_

 _greatest for not feeling guiltier about choosing to remain in Europe. I enjoy_

 _my time here, I feel called here to this town…_

 **BANG, BANG, BANG**

The suddenness of the knocking made my hand slip and my writing smudge. Cursing under my breath I sat my pen aside to answer the door. **BANG, BANG, BANG**

"I coming!" shouting from the stairs, I hope I'm heard.

Yanking open the clinic door, I had to immediately look down at a small boy panting and breathing heavily.

"You have to come, they said it was an emergency!" he huffed out, and grabbing my hand tried to drag me from the doorway.

It took but a second to convince him to pause long enough for me grab the leather pack from the theater. Next thing I knew we were rushing along the streets, weaving closer and closer towards the factories.

Passing around the corner I spotted Thomas standing in the street.

"Thomas?" I shouted towards him, skidding to a halt.

"Finn? Don't move, Finn." He barely spared me a look before he began talking loudly toward the garage before him, "Which door did you get in from, Finn?"

I rushed toward him, noticing the fearful look in his eyes. "I didn't use the door, I climbed in." Finn laughed out.

"Thomas?" I pleaded some kind of answer from him. His hands weren't quite steady as they were white knuckled at his sides.

"Just climb back out exactly as you got in." Thomas insisted moving round the side of his car slowly.

Unsure, I decided not to move. Finn giggled, "Hello, Ann. I was pretending I was Tommy."

"Just climb back out, eh, Finn." I started, my eyes finding Tommy's when I heard his voice hitch.

The speed at which everything moved at that point was unreal. I'd hardly believe it was just 10 seconds. To me everything felt like an eternity and a half. Finn, laughing and giggling away lurched to one side and threw open the door to the car. He leapt out towards me.

"NO…" I barely registered the click of the pin over Tommy's shout.

Once he reached into the car and screamed clear, I didn't even process my own body's movements before I grabbed Finn about the waist pulling him tight to me and down near the tire. All I knew for about a minute was the ringing in my ears and muffled shouts of men behind me. I didn't even register Finn struggling against my tight hold. All I could fathom was that I still felt his little heart pounding through my chest.

"You're alright?" I felt myself asking of poor Finn.

Tommy was around the car in mere seconds grasping at us both. His hand on my arm yanked me upright and then back down all at once as he bent us down to Finn's level. Gripping Finn's small face, I was surprised the words came out through his panting, "This is why you should NEVER pretend to be me!" The words may have been angry, but his eyes read only as fearful.

Standing tall once more together, with one of Finn's small hands in each of ours, it was _his_ large hand on my forearm squeezing and shaking slightly, that passed the only message of thanks needed.

 **THOMAS**

She sat in front of Scudboat, smiling and being charming while she stitched him back together. None of the chaos that had occurred a mere twenty minutes ago even evident in her mannerisms. If I hadn't of been there with her I'd have never have known myself. Poll sat by the fireplace, one room over, snuggling on Finn. Arthur and John looked sorely out of place in their own office. Everything still strewn as it was.

All three of us had lit cigarettes, but she didn't say a word about it. Either way I felt myself exhaling my smoke out away from her general direction.

No words had needed to pass between any of us when I'd come back in the door with Finn and her. The questions had been in everyone's mouth, swallowed up by their fear and shock. Mumbling the events at Arthur and John who then relayed it to Polly had been enough.

My anger swam in front of my eyes. It took serious concentration to not crush the lit cigarette in my fist.

"Alrighty, all patched back up. Leave the bandage on for the next day or so. Then in one week I can take those out and you'll be good as new. Minus a small scar of course." She smiled at Scudboat while she packed up her supplies.

Closing the leather kit and sitting it on the floor she scooted her chair back and turned to be unexpectedly, "You're going to want to shut those doors."

Arthur and John looked up at where Polly sat with Finn. The double doors spread wide.

"What are you getting at?" Arthur asked, it was obviously he was getting wound up.

Silencing him with a look she turned back to me, "Thomas, you're going to need to shut those doors."

I took a heavy drag on my cigarette before doing as she said slowly. Polly didn't even look up. When I turned back to the room she stood right behind me, hand out to take the cigarette. I couldn't find it in me to question her. But when she took it from my hand and held it herself I finally felt myself snap.

 **ANN**

I wasn't sure if Tommy even noticed the white knuckled grip on his hat in his left hand or the cigarette in his right. They were all smoking like chimneys, but at this point I couldn't find the heart to say anything against it. Thomas paced the right wall in front of a trashed office and another set of doors. When he paused to glance around it was hard to tell if he even noticed the rest of us.

Making quick work of some stitches wasn't going to be the issue here. I could triage injuries worse than this in my sleep. Scudboat was pleasant, smiling and answering all my questions about his injuries.

I felt the adrenaline in my body cycle out long ago, but I watched it just keep pumping on Thomas. Finally I couldn't restrain myself, I told him he needed to shut the door and block off his aunt and little brother. His brothers didn't understand what I was trying to do, not until those double doors clicked shut. When I took the warm cigarette and stood back it was like another bomb went off, this bomb was Tommy. He dropped his hat and stormed to the table Scudboat and I had vacated, he lifted the table and flipped it to the side. His anguished shout probably should have alarmed me, but the only ones who looked surprised were his brothers.

Shoulders heaving and his hands shaking I pulled a chair up and nudged his legs with it before he just flopped into it, "Get out."

His brothers were only too happy to comply, quickly taking Scudboat with them. I started past him for my kit when my wrist was caught in his. He stared at me, unseeing in a way.

"I almost got Finn killed." The words were a whisper and a pant all at once.

Turning to face him I leaned forward, his hand still held my wrist, "I want to ask what's going on…but we both know you don't trust anyone with the truth."

He snorted, "That's not true. I just haven't trusted it with you."

There were no words I could give to him before he continued, "I figured you were going to come to a conclusion all your own, and I know you wouldn't be very far from the truth."

I straighten up and he released my wrist. I reached out the cigarette to him which he took without looking at me. Next I wandered over to his fallen hat and picked it up, dusting it off careful to avoid the razor blade. My kit sat undisturbed on the ground nearby.

I made my way back in front of Tommy. Crouching down in front of him I settled myself between his slightly spread knees, and settled the hat in his lap. With my right hand I smoothed his bangs as they hung across his forehead, "You're right, I don't need you to tell me."

The intimacy of this moment would dwell in my head for the rest of the day. Leaning forward on between us I pressed my lips to his temple, "Aren't you tired of war, Thomas? Because the bags under your eyes are giving you away."

Straightening myself and grabbing my kit, I left, fighting the urge to brush my tingling lips with much steadier fingers as I went.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I'm sorry for the lateness. College is a pain and always unpredictable. I'll do my best, but I'm in intensive study mode to prepare for the MCAT in several months time. Thank you for your patience.**

 **THOMAS**

 _She_ was right, I was tired of war. But everything felt like the best and only option I had left to me. Everything I had done was for the family. It was about time someone else stepped up, and it was for that exact reason that I even stepped into the Romany camp.

 **CAMPBELL**

The rain came down in a heavy drizzle. It kept people from the streets and that just made it all the more concealing. Meeting Tommy Shelby would be simple now…now I wasn't the only one with a horse in the race.

"Anonymous tip-off."

"I was promised Freddie Thorn." I should have known he'd try to pull one over on me.

"Stanley Chapman is a much bigger fish, one with 200 pounds on his person."

I sighed and motioned him to continue, a proposition was his game it seemed. "In exchanged you will leave Ada and Freddie out of this. They're no longer your concern."

"Fine. I'll agree to your terms, but you should know that the Prime Minster is becoming impatient." I took a seat, my confidence growing.

"We made our deal. Once my business with Kimber is through, you'll get your guns."

"Well then let us hope my dismissal doesn't come before then. If it does you'll certainly feel all of my fury." The gross, confident rage oozed from me as I listed all the things I wished to bestow upon him and his blood. Everyone he ever knew would feel my revenge. My power of him and his would be absolute. Soon…soon he'd finally get a tasting of it.

 **GRACE**

He startled me with his line of questioning and his suspicious requests. He wanted a confession now. So he knew, he found me out.

"I need someone to run the legal side of a business. I need someone with class and who looks the part."

"What is this, an interview? I'm not an accountant or a lawyer."

"Arthur tells me you're good with numbers, you help him keep the books." He practically interrupted me.

"That's not saying much, your brother isn't very good at it. The books were a mess, I've just been trying to help."

"But you're also a liar." My chest seized at his words and I stayed silent. "No good catholic girl would enter a church and forget to make the sign of the cross. You didn't work at a pub and now I find out you're a protestant."

Anger would say me, "Do you care?"

I bit out the words and he was quick to respond in kind, "No."

I searched for my words. Nothing had yet been given away, not yet at least. "I did it to fit in." He snorted, obviously he still didn't believe me.

"You know that what I do is illegal..." It was my turn to scoff.

"I'm not blind." I smiled a bit to myself. "Are you offering me a job?"

His answer, or lack thereof game me all I need know on the subject, "Then I accept." I smiled more.

I didn't bother to pay attention to his next words. I was safe, my cover was safe, and Tommy was staring at me almost expectantly.

"There is another reason for my employing you…" he whispered it out as he came closer. His lips were soft on mine and I felt the shiver at his touch run down my neck. My cover was definitely safe, but did that even matter now. He left as ominously as he found me, but my body felt suddenly hot now. _Campbell can't know!_

 **THOMAS**

 _Lizzie Stark huh?_ I haven't been able to choke that one down. So here I was chasing her down, "That bag looks heavy, Lizzie. Hop in."

"Kids teas." Her reply didn't stop her.

"So you like kids? Because John's got four of them." I slowed and she too gave pause before turning. "I'm not here to argue, Lizzie."

She slumped and moved towards my car, climbing into the cab next to me. I reached into my jacket and pulled out the money, rolling it in my hand before speaking. But Lizzie beat me to it, "You're not going to stop us?"

"John's own man." And I laid a pound down. "Now, Lizzie. Since I've returned from France you and I have spent many a time together." Another pound.

Her voice was worried and urgent, "Oh, Tommy. You didn't tell him did you?"

"Of course I didn't tell him…but why didn't you?" I laid a third pound down.

Her eyes twitched to remain locked with mine, "Because the past is the past." A fourth pound down.

"I was hoping you'd say that." I felt my chest loosen a bit even with the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth pound, "I was hoping you'd consider this a wedding gift and a farewell to days gone by."

Now she didn't contain herself from eyeing the money with heavy eyes. She was hesitant and worried, the question hanging from her lips, "You mean…one last time?"

"I do." I counted to ten and I wasn't even to 8 when she scooped the money up and stuffed it into her boot. My chest tightened and I released the sigh I'd been holding.

"Take the money and get out Lizzie." Her mistake was made and she realized it immediately.

"Fuck you Tommy Shelby!" grabbing her basket she shoved hard to close my door.

I sighed. John would receive the proper information, and he'd make his decisions like an adult. I just hoped when the time came that he wouldn't be too hard pressed to man up for the family.

* * *

The wedding was a success. I was more than happy to settle one squabble just to strengthen our chances. Esme was properly welcomed, and John it seemed was smitten. He didn't totally hate me, as of currently. But that was more than possible to change. With one settled squabble, I had hoped to reconcile a sister. I felt even more accomplished to see Ada stroll in at Poll's side. Today would be for family, and I could breathe easy in that regard.


	12. Chapter 12

**ANN**

The pounding on the clinic door would have woken me had I been asleep, but I didn't seem to be having much sleep to be awoken from. Slipping on my boots and trudging down the stairs, the pounding didn't seem urgent. I didn't bother to check the window before I pulled the door open. It probably should have surprised me to see Tommy leaning in the door frame, "Get your stuff, Ada's in labor."

Should have surprised me, should have annoyed me too. But this was why I can here wasn't it? This community just seemed to walk hand in hand with violence plenty more frequently than was probably necessary.

I didn't even bother with the door, leaving it wide, before marching back to the surgery for my pack. Joining Tommy in the street I asked, "Are you not pressed about the birth of your niece or nephew?"

Tommy laughed, probably one of the first times I'd ever really heard it to be honest. He puffed on a cigarette I just seemed to notice. "She's carried 9 months, what's a few more minutes going to do?"

I rolled my eyes and inclined for him to lead the way, "Well then thank God you're not the one delivering it! Now…any day…"

He was enjoying this far too much for my taste. Something had him in a mood, a good one surprisingly. He led me to the door of his car and to the Shelby house we drove. Stopping in the street there was another car idling. His brothers and a woman in white stepped out, his Aunt Polly hesitating in the door of the house.

"How's the car, John?" Tommy called.

"Your sister is having a baby and all you can talk about is cars?" Polly sounded exasperated.

I moved forward with my pack and Polly only briefly nodded as I stepped over the threshold, "I brought you the good doctor, besides there's not much us men can do now eh?"

"Except get drunk!" Arthur exclaimed and he was joined by their chuckles.

Up the stairs I went into a too hot room with a very sweaty Ada huffing and puffing and pacing. Polly and the woman in white came in just after looking a bit pressed. I pulled the button down out of my skirt and took it off tossing it over the couch, "Alright ladies, I need clean sheets and hot water. Ada, let's get you looked after. Come have a seat for a moment."

Polly seemed nervous at my orders until she realized I didn't have time to cater to her feelings. In the end she moved off smoothly for supplies. I checked the heart beat with the pinard I'd brought. Ada was twitchy and difficult to calm. Soon everyone was back to reconvene for the birth. We got Ada set up on the floor with some pillows and I felt about her belly. She tried to push, "Stop pushing Ada. Baby's the wrong way around, and you're not gonna like it. I'm going to have to turn baby and hope they stay that way."

"I can help, I've attended three sisters." The woman in white spoke up. I nodded.

The night was pierced with Ada's screams as we turned the baby and helped her to deliver. It wasn't a fast birth either, firsts usually never are. It took several hours all together. It reminded me of my Mother saying that it was nearly 8 hours of labor with my brother Matthew.

A man I'd never seen before storming in once it was done, _Must be the infamous Freddie Thorn_. I watched them huddled together over the baby, a boy, while I wiped my hands. I'd already looked after the placenta with Polly's help. She looked relieved a bit, and noticeably quieter. She turned to me and very tight lipped grasped my hands in hers. One squeeze was all I received in thanks, but I figured affection from a woman like her wouldn't be reserved for me.

BANG BANG BANG! "Open up. Police." BANG BANG. Esme, was John's new wife as I'd learned, startled and turned to move into the hall. Didn't make any difference when the door was kicked in and men came charging in.

"You shouldn't go in there, a baby's just been born." Esme tried to explain but they pushed past her.

There was no reason to the chaos that ensued. Freddie was shoved against the walls of the hall. Admittedly I don't know what I could do. My attitude would only make things worse. I was for once at a loss. Then again so was everyone else. Polly clutched Ada who sobbed over her newborn. Esme hugged herself in fear. But it was Freddie's pleading as he was dragged away that really set the tone.

It was moments after they left that Polly settled Ada on the couch and stormed out of the house after her. All she uttered as she wrapped her coat about herself, "Damnit Tommy."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Forgive my delay. I'm finishing up my finals and I'll be mostly free for the summer. Thank you for reading what it is I seem to be posting.**


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